#Hing Powder

[seoplassy]

Cooking with Hing Powder in Everyday Meals

If you're looking to add a unique twist to your everyday meals, look no further than Hing Powder. Also known as asafetida powder, this potent spice has been a staple in Indian cuisine for centuries, revered for its distinctive aroma and myriad health benefits. In this blog, we'll explore how to incorporate Hing Powder into your cooking, its health benefits, and tips for buying and storing it.

What is Hing Powder?

Hing Powder, or asafetida powder, is derived from the resin of the Ferula plant. It has a strong, pungent smell that mellows out during cooking to impart a savory, umami flavor to dishes. Traditionally used in Indian cuisine, it holds a special place in Ayurvedic medicine and is often used as a digestive aid.

Health Benefits of Hing Powder

Using Hing Powder in your cooking can offer several health benefits:

Digestive Aid: Hing Powder is renowned for its ability to reduce bloating and gas, making it a common ingredient in dishes designed to soothe the digestive system.

Anti-inflammatory Properties: This spice helps in reducing inflammation and pain, contributing to overall wellness.

Antimicrobial Effects: Hing Powder fights against harmful bacteria and viruses, supporting a healthy immune system.

Cooking with Hing Powder

Incorporating Hing Powder into your cooking is easier than you might think. Here are some tips to get you started:

How to Use Hing Powder: Typically, a small pinch of Hing Powder is enough to add depth to your dishes. It is often tempered in hot oil to release its full flavor before adding other ingredients.

Combining with Other Spices: Hing Powder pairs well with spices like turmeric, cumin, and coriander. Adding it to your spice blends can enhance the overall flavor profile of your dishes.

Best Practices: Store Hing Powder in an airtight container to maintain its potency. Use sparingly, as its strong flavor can easily overpower other ingredients.

Everyday Recipes with Hing Powder

Hing Powder can be a versatile addition to both vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes:

Vegetarian Dishes: Use Hing Powder in lentil dishes (dal), vegetable curries (sabzi), and chutneys for an extra burst of flavor.

Non-Vegetarian Dishes: Enhance the taste of meat and fish curries with a pinch of Hing Powder.

Beverages: Add Hing Powder to buttermilk or digestive teas to enjoy its health benefits in a refreshing drink.

International Cuisines

While Hing Powder is traditionally associated with Indian cuisine, it can also be used in a variety of international dishes:

Fusion Recipes: Experiment with Hing Powder in soups, stews, and even pasta to create unique fusion recipes.

Global Appeal: Chefs around the world are starting to incorporate Hing Powder into their menus, appreciating its ability to add complexity to various dishes.

Flavor Profile of Hing Powder

One of the most distinctive aspects of Hing Powder is its unique aroma:

Unique Aroma: Although it has a pungent smell in its raw form, Hing Powder mellows during cooking to provide a savory flavor.

Umami Boost: Hing Powder adds depth and complexity, making it a valuable ingredient for enhancing the umami profile of your dishes.

Substitute for Garlic and Onion: For those who avoid garlic and onion due to dietary restrictions, Hing Powder serves as an excellent substitute.

Buying and Storing Hing Powder

To get the most out of your Hing Powder, it’s important to buy and store it correctly:

Where to Buy: Quality Hing Powder can be found in Indian grocery stores or online. Look for reputable brands to ensure you get the best product.

Storage Tips: Keep Hing Powder in an airtight container away from light and moisture to maintain its potency.

Cultural Insights

Hing Powder has a rich cultural heritage:

Traditional Uses: In addition to its culinary applications, Hing Powder is used in Ayurvedic medicine for its therapeutic properties.

Regional Variations: Different types of Hing Powder are used across various regions of India, each offering a slightly different flavor profile.

Conclusion

Incorporating Hing Powder into your everyday meals can unlock a world of flavor and health benefits. Whether you're adding it to traditional Indian dishes or experimenting with fusion recipes, Hing Powder is a versatile spice that deserves a place in your kitchen. Start small, experiment with different dishes, and discover the unique taste that Hing Powder brings to your culinary creations. Share your experiences and recipes, and enjoy the rich flavors and benefits of this incredible spice!

[chiraagi-spices]

Hing powder

A strong and aromatic spice that is frequently used in Indian cooking is hing powder, commonly referred to as asafoetida powder. Hing powder is a unique flavor and aroma that enhances the richness and nuance of many foods. 

Hing powder releases a mild umami flavor that is reminiscent of onions and garlic when cooked, despite having a strong fragrance when raw. Because of this, it is a widely used ingredient in vegetarian and vegan cooking, where it acts as a tasty stand-in for aromatics. 

Hing powder usually has a limited usage in Indian cooking because a little bit goes a long way. It is frequently added to hot oil or ghee before cooking in order to balance and intensify the flavors of the spices. In addition to being a crucial part of numerous spice mixtures like sambar and curry powder, hing powder is also used to season rice dishes, stir-fried vegetables, and lentil foods.

Hing powder is an all-around adaptable spice that enhances a variety of foods with depth, flavor, and scent. Hing powder is a staple of Indian cooking and a favorite seasoning for both professional chefs and home cooks. It can be used to increase the digestive qualities of food or to temper spices. 

https://chiraagispices.com/hing-powder/ 

https://chiraagispices.com/hing-powder/

[oilsandherbsuk]

Benefits of Hing Powder- It is rich in fiber, It can help with digestion,It can help with menstrual cramps. Mix 1/2 teaspoons in smoothies, tea and other drinks or as advised by medical health care provider.

[foodflavorin]

South Indian Lemon Rice

[shubhfoodproducts]

Find Reliable Hing Powder Manufacturers & Suppliers in India

Looking for top-quality Hing Powder? Explore our extensive list of trusted Hing Powder manufacturers and suppliers in India. With their expertise, they deliver premium-grade Hing Powder that adds a distinctive flavour to your culinary delights. Choose from a wide range of options and experience the authentic taste of India in your dishes. Trustworthy and reliable, our suppliers ensure the highest quality standards, making them the go-to choice for Hing Powder in India. Elevate your cooking experience with the finest Hing Powder available on the market. Get in touch with our featured manufacturers and suppliers today!

Contact Detail Office Address Unit No. 1-6, J 10, Shree Arihant Complex Kalher, Bhiwandi – 421302, Thane, Maharashtra Call Us +91 8956063379 +91 8956063388 Email Us: info@shubhfoodproducts.com Website-https://shubhfoodproducts.com/hing-asafoetida/

[bimboficationblues]

A judge was a subclass of attorney believed by many to be endowed with mystical powers of interpretation. In early modern Europe, judges drew their power and authority from powdered wigs, but vulnerability to being snatched led judges in the modern era to instead harness their energy from intangible supranatural concepts such as "legal reasoning." [1] This force was largely used to undermine democracy [2], deny welfare to the disabled, antagonize vulnerable criminal defendants, personally enrich themselves [3], and conduct cryomancy rituals [citation needed]. Judges were understood contemporaneously to be the living incarnation of a certain form of legal spirit.

Judges presided over "courtrooms," which were localized fiefdoms in which the judge could purportedly use their will to manipulate the underlying fabric of reality. [4] Contemporary historians [who?] have suggested that judges required and demanded titles such as "Your Honor" in order to psychologically preserve their belief in their own righteousness and superiority despite being part of a brutal state bureaucracy that hinged entirely on arbitrary notions of logic, impartiality, and objectivity. Others have disputed this, however, and argued that the invocation of the honorific reflected the judge's status as a modern-day aristocrat. [5] Many judges wielded a gavel, a weapon which they could withdraw from a pocket dimension within their robes known as "hammerspace," in order to bludgeon reality into a shape of their choosing. Judges were typically appointed for life, but this limitation could often be circumvented through transformation into a lich. Most famously, Clarence Thomas underwent this process in 2040 in order to be appointed Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States.

All judges were destroyed and immolated following the Red Annihilation Wave of 2176, which rendered the concept of "law" logically impossible.

[melaniemcfarlane]

Bathroom - 3/4 Bath

[hellaplastic]

Bathroom Master Bath

[naviavu]

Evergreen

PAIRINGS: yandere!alhaitham x reader

TAGS: mild compared to my other works <3, i guess, >:-), obsession, possessive sex, juicy smut, alhaitham is yandere YANDERE, he just wants reader back home :(, sumeru dream team, abuse of power, childhood friends to lovers, kinda, manipulation

WORDS: 4.4k // crossposted on ao3 // my masterlist

NOTES: hope everyone enjoys this dark twist of alhaitham! it's been so long since i wrote for genshin, and i'm not sure how much the tumblr community has changed. regardless, please don't hesitate to drop by my inbox to comment or request! i genuinely missed writing lol <3

You often think that you’re cursed with your work.

(Y/N) of the Akademiya. Graduated early from Vahumana, traveling all over the seven nations to be a teacher and provide impoverished kids with free education. This is the fourth year of your career, and you’re staying in Fontaine– everything is going great.  

Until one day, a messenger approached you.

“What do you mean the stakeholders are withholding funds indefinitely?” A chalk breaks under your grip, powder falling to your skirt. You glance quickly outside the tent, careful to not let your students hear you. “That doesn’t make any sense– the Yorun investors are literally from Sumeru! They’re wealthy enough to fund fancier Akademiya projects! ”

The messenger– Jesse, a gentle Fontainian girl much younger than you– avoids eye contact and fiddles with her sling bag. “They insisted that the abrupt change in the sages and Lesser Lord Kusanali’s rise to power caused their resources to become… limited.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit!” You shout. Jesse trembles. You sigh and pat her head. “Sorry, kid. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. Get home safe, alright?”

(She only nods and places the letter on your desk. Before leaving, she turns back and says, “I’m really sorry, Ma’am (Y/N). I also wish that you continue your work. You’ve done a great deal educating kids in this neighborhood… including my brother.”

You give her a sad smile.)

There was no choice. The next day, you taught one last lesson to your students (eleven children from the back alleys of Fontaine, all no older than twelve) and bid your final goodbyes. When they ask where you’re going, you tell them that you’re on for another long journey, and you don’t know when you’ll be back. They gather around and embrace you, small hands all over your body. One of the kids (Jules, one brilliant in maths but not so much in literature. You’ll miss his toothy smile the most) tell you that they will pray to Focalors for your safety. You pat Oli’s head one last time, telling him to be good for his sister Jesse. 

A carriage picks you up before sunrise. Your journey to Sumeru was uneventful, and every small bump and thud on the way aggravated you further. You settle for burning holes at the empty seat in front of you.

You enter the city with your head down, walking the familiar steps robotically. You think that you recognize the voices of your old acquaintances and neighbors chattering and laughing, but the haze from your mind (and heart) prevents you from doing the bare minimum of greeting them.

The first step to your wooden porch is a bittersweet homecoming. When you open your front door, the hinges still squeak the same tones before you left. 

Your evergreen shrubs haven't grown an inch, as if someone was maintaining them. (You brush off this strange detail.)

Mindlessly staring inside your unkempt house, you decide that if you want to continue your life’s work, you must continue earning money. 

(You failed to notice that your doorknob was dust-free.)

You sat down on your old desk and wrote a lengthy letter to the higher-ups for the cause of your arrival, the reason for the halt of your travels, and that you’re looking for a job. 

For the rest of the day, you unpack your bags, sweep the floor, and pace restlessly in your living room. It’s been many years since you were in contact with your superiors. The last time you saw them was at your graduation, where everyone expected you to stay in Sumeru and be one of the next candidates for the Sage of Vahumana. 

The grip in your broom tightens when you remember as clear as day your professors’ anger and judgment when you declined their offer. Entitled. Ungrateful.

Will they even accept you back? Will they cast you out?

To your surprise, a reply arrived on your doorstep not even a day later. A clean envelope embroidered with green and silver patterns.

You were offered to fill the vacant position of Scribe. 

You tell yourself that you’ll adjust eventually. 

Seeing the piles of papers and books in front of you, your hand aches a phantom throb. You wonder how your friend Lisa could survive this kind of monotony in Mondstadt. It pays better, sure, and your back and legs won’t hurt as much from traversing landscapes– but it’s still nothing compared to seeing the smile on children’s faces when they finally understand the concepts after a bone-deep, exhausting lesson.

As expected, the stick-thin pen felt too soft on your fingers after a few hours. You were more used to holding chalks or markers. Drafting ordinances and reading through academic policies was never your thing. 

Outside your study, you hear the light footsteps of scholars while noisily prattling about one of their newest inventions. You can’t help but compare the plain white-green palette of your office to the brightness and energetic vibrance of the local districts. 

Putting your hands on your head, you exhale deeply. “Fuck me!” 

“--(Y/N). I hope you’re doing well on your first day.” A voice –not too different from years ago, just deeper– enters the room.

Oh god. “Alhaitham!” The silver-haired man closes the door behind him. You didn’t even hear his footsteps outside your office. “Sorry, my… hand cramped from signing all these papers. You know how it is.” 

He raises his eyebrow. “Still not used to your tasks?” Seeing him out of his Haravatat uniform is a new sight. Even from a distance, his stature is much taller, no doubt towering over you.  

“Well, I can’t really complain,” His lack of greeting and deadpan expression doesn’t bother you. If anything, you’re glad that the Alhaitham you knew four years ago is not too different from Alhaitham now. “It’s better than not having a job. I didn’t expect them to accept me so fast, though. I thought they’d be more hung up with my rejection thing years ago. Old people and their grudges, y’know?”

Alhaitham doesn’t respond, used to your chattering. He meanders to the nearby bookshelf and brushes through. Your lips quirk into a small grin. “Thank the Archons that I have my very cute junior, who’s also the Acting Grand Sage and the previous Scribe, to help me adjust with my new work, huh?”

His fingers stop skimming. He glares over his shoulder. “Power tripping me on your first day? I’m calling human resources.”

Your shoulders shake when you laugh. His own kind of humor never ceases to amuse you. “Sorry. It’ll take some time… but I’ll get used to this. I promise.” 

A familiar and comfortable silence settles in the room. A few papers later, he finally picks the book he’s been looking for and turns to you. “Please do everyone a favor by going to Lambad’s Tavern tonight. Kaveh got into an altercation with another customer, and your presence would help tone down his temper. Tighnari and Cyno are also expecting you. Candace also mentioned that she hasn't gotten back to you since you last wrote to her, and she would love to catch up personally.”

Your lips smile at the mention of your old friends. Stretching your arms, you look out the window. The noise outside from Sumeru City barely hangs in the air with your office located so high up in the building. “News goes around real fast, doesn’t it? I’ve been keeping a low profile since last week and didn’t even tell anyone about my arrival. Not Kaveh. Not Cyno, not Tighnari, not Candace.” Your whisper, eyes downcast.

Alhaitham walks to the other side of your desk and crosses his arms. “The lack of funds for your organization wasn’t your fault, (Y/N). Whether it's because of the shift in power from the sages or not, incidents out of your control inevitably happen.”

You don’t ask why he knows the reason why you’re back here. Alhaitham always knew more than what he let on. “Don’t waste time being disappointed with yourself and focus on what you have now.”

You turn away, flustered from the sincere gaze of his bright virescent eyes. You take a sip of your warm coffee to hide your smile. “Thanks, Haitham. This is why you’re the best Acting Grand Sage.”

He rolls his eyes. The brewing tension disappears. “Make sure that I see you in the tavern no later than 10.”

The door softly closes when he leaves. For the first time in forever, this place starts to feel like home.

The lively, alcohol-drenched atmosphere in Lambad’s Tavern never changed. 

Years ago, you’d go day drinking whenever your assignments were returned for their fifth revision. If your whole class was lucky, most of your group mates and colleagues will be with you, equally drowning in their academic-induced sorrows.

The amber-brown colors of the sheets and the patrons who entered remained the same. Before you even reach the counter, someone already picks you up and spins you around in a hug. “Little one! I’ve heard from some patrons that you were back in town. It’s one of those rumors that I hoped to be true!” 

You giggle and embrace Lambad back, grateful for the older man’s warm welcome. 

“(Y/N)!” You’d recognize the forest ranger’s sweet voice anywhere. Tighnari jogs towards you and pulls you into a hug, tail wagging. You notice that he looks better compared to all those years ago when he was still in the Akademiya. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you sooner. When Cyno told me there seemed to be an occupant in your house, I didn’t expect it to be you! ” 

Bitterness pangs in your heart. “I didn’t expect to be back either,” You say honestly. “Guess everyone needs a little break somehow.”

“Warn us next time, would you?” Cyno emerges behind his friend. “Be thankful that there was other urgent business to take care of. I was ready to… interrogate whoever was staying inside my friend’s house without their permission.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it, boss,” You shake your head and laugh. Three of you walk to a table near the windows. You’re happy to see everyone. And you’re glad to know that they’re also just as happy to see you. 

After a good hour of catching up, you feel your whole body relax and your jaw tense from laughing too hard at Tighnari’s anecdotes. Your emotions unwind like a fresh flower by the streams. 

“That blockhead doesn’t know what he’s talking about...  Where are they? The tavern is too crowded at this hour!” You turn to your left, looking for him. You wave excitedly when you see a tuft of blonde hair. 

His eyes widened. “(Y/N)?”

“Kaveh.”

“(Y/N)!”

“Kaveh!” The architect ran up and enveloped you in a hug. Since college, yours and Kaveh’s stupidity knew no bounds– it was always laughs and jokes between you. You stay in each other’s arms for a few moments, and the familiarity of his scent brings you relaxation. 

The night goes on as great as it started. 

“I can’t wait until I move out!” Kaveh exclaims. Two people from the other table look in his direction. Your other friends groan, used to his antics. 

You notice redness starting to come up on the blonde’s neck. “You’re being really loud for someone I thought didn’t want people knowing you live with him.” 

Cyno places down a card. Tighnari groans. “Don’t engage him. (Y/N). Or he won’t stop.”

“Yes! Yes,” Kaveh starts. All the other customers are busy with their own shouting and chattering. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the place. Alhaitham is a quiet roommate. I just can’t stand his attitude most of the time! If I wanted a lecture, I would’ve gone to the Akademiya and talked to my old professors.”

The blonde crosses his arms. “What about you, (Y/N)? I’m not going to lie, Alhaitham made a great recommendation of you being the Scribe. That’s the only thing I could commend him for this week, at least.” 

“What?” You weren’t aware of that. Your thumbs fiddle with your skirt. “Uh, yeah. I’ll make sure to thank him later.”

“Oh, sweet (Y/N), you’re to kiiiiiind,” He slurs. “I wish you were my roommate instead.”

Your best friend reaches to twirl your hair. In your drunken stupor, you giggle with a light blush painting your cheeks. 

A bottle clangs on the table. “Another one, please.”

A heavy presence sits beside you. You look, and Alhaitham was already downing a shot, throat bobbing. 

In the background, your friends laugh while Kaveh groans. 

Has Haitham always been this beautiful?

The silver-haired man looks at you. “Enjoying Kaveh’s tales?” 

“It’s always a fun story when you’re involved.” You giggle, flushing under his gaze. “Everything about you is so entertaining, Haitham.”

Your flushed face does something to his chest. He gives you another shot. “That’s why your colleagues used to look at you weird. Whenever Kaveh wasn’t around, you’d hang out with me, even when I clearly wanted to be alone,” He laments. 

“Says the one who used to follow me around like a puppy! We were mismatched weirdos,” You don’t notice the blush creep up on his cheeks. You smile at him earnestly, whispering. “I’m glad you didn’t change– oops!”

The chair creaks and you stumble into his arms. You look up, seeing his face and amber eyes close to yours. Heat emanates from the grip on your waist, and your hands feel hot on his chest. Sparks flew to your core. 

“Get a room! You know what, I’m staying in Cyno’s tonight. He never sleeps anyway,” Kaveh’s shouts break the stupor and you push Alhaitham away. He stumbled, and Cyno was on his side in an instant. “You heard him. Kaveh, it’s time for you to clock out. Tighnari, let’s continue this game next time.” 

The three of them exit the tavern. ‘Make Alhaitham pay the tab! He’s so unfair!’ Kaveh says, and Alhaitham begrudgingly does so when both of you have sobered enough to walk home. 

You don’t know if it’s the leftover alcohol in your system, but the night sky swirls above both of you. “Ah… I never knew… howmuchImissedbeinghere,” 

“Easy there,” He catches you again when you stumble. “Where are we going, Haitham?”

“To your place, of course. You’re exhausted from work. You need to rest.”

“What? But I thought…” Your mind goes blank. Alhaitham looks at you with hope in his eyes, but the light is gone in a split second. 

“You thought what?” When you don’t answer, he stops on his tracks. “You thought what, (Y/N)? Tell me.” 

“Nothing.” He looks away. You face him. “But… I think… my place is too far. Can we go to yours instead?” 

You seal your fate with those words.  

The heat from both of your bodies encapsulated the whole room. 

Alhaitham’s hands slowly grip your curves. Passion and lust melted into two souls that yearned for each other for so long. 

“Haitham…” You breathe out, shivering from his fingers ghosting on your skin. You feel like you’re on fire, and his warmth only served to fan your flames higher. 

“I wanted you for so long… you’re so beautiful…” He gasps, fumbling around your blouse buttons. Despite his rough kisses, he handles you gently– like porcelain glass, a gift getting unwrapped for the first time.  

When you finally undressed, Alhaitham almost couldn’t believe his eyes. 

The one woman he had been obsessed with, laid out before him. His for the taking. 

You shiver at his gaze. You hold out your hand, shaking from the cold. And arousal. “C-Come… Haitham… you can do whatever you want with me…”

And so he does. He climbs to your bed like a predator hunting the prey. You lie in wait as you let him take the lead. Kissing all over your breasts, suckling on your nipples, sending shivers to your core. You try to squeeze your legs for relief, but Haitham stops you by putting his knees in between your legs. 

He clicks his tongue. “You’ll only cum on my mouth, fingers, or cock tonight, baby.” 

You shudder at his words. Down he goes, settling himself between your soft thighs. You flush, your cunt surely eager and wet, aching for his touch. He licks a stripe in your pussy, and you moan. “H-haitham!”

He licks more eagerly, like a man starved. Never in a million years you’d ever thought that you would be this vulnerable and intimate. At the hands of your junior, no less. His face on your thighs and his mouth on your clit, sucking like you were his last meal. 

Your head was in the clouds. Your hands move to his head, tugging roughly. 

He growls. “You wanna play rough? I can play rough.”

You sigh. “Keep–going– Haitham…”

He spits on your cunt. He slurps on your mixed juices. “I-I’m close…” 

He stops and you whine. Your legs are pulled to the end of the couch, and you watch him as he fumbles with his clothes. When he finally emerges stark naked in front of you, you notice his large cock, angrily red at the tip. 

That won’t fit inside you. 

“Wait– Haitham!” He positions himself in front of your legs, rubbing his cock on your entrance. “Yes, baby?” 

“You– You might not fit inside me,” You flush deeper when he laughs. “I’m being serious!”

“We’ll never know if we don’t find out.” He enters you, and you moan. You try to cover your mouth from letting such embarrassing sounds come out, but he pins your arms above you. “I want to hear you.” 

He rocks into you, like two bodies connecting with each other have waited for a long time. 

Alhaitham observes your face, sketches it to his memory. The way your eyes glisten, and your mouth opens in pleasure. The curve of your hips and waist, the slope of your nose, the plush of your lips, and the tears in your eyes. You’ve grown into a fine young woman as he expected, and it was a blessing that you came home so unexpectedly. 

Your pussy is heavenly. All his teenage fantasies culminated to this one night– his childhood crush, sprawled out in his bed and legs open like a slut. He’ll make sure that your skin is marked all over. Let everyone know that you’re his, and no one else’s. 

“Haa… Feels so good…” You were equally drenched in sweat and your tears, pleasure overcoming your senses. You feel him suck your nipples again, sending you more pleasure to your core. 

“You’re so fucking tight– that’s it, baby, suck me in,” He groans, as you feel yourself tumbling over the edge. The coil in your stomach tightens and you moan, and it suddenly snaps– “Ah!” 

Your juices make a mess on his stomach, his thighs, and yours. You heave and gasp your breath, shivering. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here, you’re safe,” Warm arms envelop you, and you close your eyes.

You sleep soundly in Alhaitham’s arms. 

Time goes on, and your passionate meetings with Alhaitham are repeated. 

You gave yourself to him again, and again, and again. At his house, when Kaveh is away with his clients. In his study, when he’s stressed. On his couch, when both of you are drunk and give in to lust before going to the bedroom. For the past month, you can’t count how many times you woke up seeing the lush green of his windows and his warm body curled up around yours. 

His visits became frequent on your own study. He brings you coffee. You spend the whole day drafting and writing, and he reads his book in the corner of your room like a loyal attendant. 

It’s domestic. Sometimes, you often wonder what life will be if you decide to stay. 

(Is there a future with Alhaitham? You ask yourself one afternoon when you see the man sleeping on your mini desk. His silver hair softly flutters in the wind, and on his hand is a document you handed him to put by one of the bookshelves.

It would be good if he could join me in traveling the world. You stamp your last document for the day. 

You walk and place a kiss on his forehead to wake him up. “Work’s done, sweetie.” 

You would miss him terribly.)

One morning, your jolly footsteps alert people in the street. “Haitham!”  You whisper excitedly. The door opens, and you enter before he can even offer for you to come inside. “I got it!” 

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure what it is, but I’m proud of you.”

“I’m going back to Fontaine to teach! The stakeholders said there was an error in the calculations; they’re ready to fund my investment again!” You hug him tight. Joy pours out of your body. 

(You don’t notice him freeze.)

“I’m so happy… I honestly thought that this was the end of my life’s purpose…” You trail off. Alhaitham hugs you back. His grip tightens on your waist.

“I can finally come back to the kids in Fontaine…” You trail off when you see him looking far into the distance. 

You frown. You know better than most people that he’s not the most expressive person, but you thought that he would at least crack a smile for you. 

You hastily pull away from your hug. “I’m sorry for bothering you. I just wanted you to know first, since you’re… very special to me,” Your face was red from shame, and from not knowing how to describe your relationship with Alhaitham correctly. “I’ll go tell Tighnari and the others now.”

A beat passes. “(Y/N).” 

You turn around, hand clutching your bag. Alhaitham stands still on the doorway in the same position that you left him. 

Then, he smiles– crooked and ominous, like he was forcing himself.

Perhaps he is. 

A shiver goes down your spine. He speaks, confident and clear– like it wasn’t the most obvious lie. “I’m happy for you.” 

The door closes behind him. This time, your feet fight the urge to get out of this city as soon as possible.

 Your happiness ended as quickly as it came.

The newspaper plastered on the board of Port Ormos sits still despite the rough winds, like it knows how heavy the burden of the message it carries.

Yorun Investors dead on ambush

An Adventurer’s Guild member sighs, discouraged. A businessman– from Sneznhaya, you would assume from his attire– exclaims. “That would mean their investments are also cut off? Drat! Half of my businesses rely on their funding!”

People pile up to see the newsboard, collectively murmuring. You stand still, motionless. Bricks are piled on your hands and your feet. 

You can always find other investors, of course. Just like you did four years ago. 

How long would that take?

You walk home, absentminded. You pass by the Tavern, then the Akademiya. Walking by Alhaitham’s house doesn't even spark excitement inside you. Calling your other friends isn’t a choice, either.

You just want to wake up from this dream. 

When you arrived, Someone was waiting on your doorstep.

“Alhaitham?” Thesman stands up straight. How long was he waiting? “(Y/N), I apologize for how I acted yesterday. I hope you forgive me.” 

When you remain quiet, he continues. “I also heard about what happened. I don’t mean to mock you, (Y/N). I’m truly sorry to hear about it.” 

Tears start falling down your face, which turn into full, ugly sobs. He walks gently, as if you’ll break into pieces if he makes the wrong move. He holds up his arms. 

You bury your face in his chest and cry.

Living with Alhaitham was happier than you’d thought it would be. 

It’s been months since you took his embrace on your front porch. You spent sleepless nights with him, writing letters for every investor or kind soul who’s kind enough to fund your endeavors, even for a penny. 

You were desperate. If the higher ups knew the struggle you’re going through right now, you’re sure that they’re laughing at you. 

(Not that you cared. Alhaitham stayed up writing letters with you, and that’s all the support that you need.)

You waited, waited, and waited. Yet every reply was rejection. Your partner saw you break down, and he’s always there to pick you back up. 

His clothes are strewn all over your house, as if he lives there now. 

“Coffee?” He offers. You nod. A giggle comes out of your mouth when you see a purple hickey on his neck, barely covered by his shirt.

It’s been months since he heard your laugh. He stops stirring the cup he’s prepared for you. Alhaitham looks back, says sincerely, “I’m glad you stayed.” 

An uncomfortable feeling brews once again. You tell yourself that you’ll get used to it. 

You still have hope that one day, your feet will step out again to reach your dreams.

But for now, everything that you need in Sumeru City. The perfect partner, an authentic group of friends, a beautiful community, and a stable (but boring) job.

You’ll never have to venture out again. 

(The evergreen shrubs outside your house starts to grow.)

“She’s settling in well?” 

“Yes, she’s resting,” Alhaitham sits on the makeshift chair. Ghandarva Ville was far, but it’s where less people are around. Besides, no one would dare trespass in Tighnari’s personal home. 

“You owe me a favor,” Cyno crosses his arms. “Finding the investor’s carriage was not difficult. They’re pretty famous. But erasing traces is a piece of work. I’m lucky that no one was within the area. Not that they could catch me, anyway.”

The door opens. Tighnari brushes off dirt from his clothing, having come back from burning the investor’s bloodied clothes. He sees the grey-haired man relaxing by his couch. “Are you smiling? Don’t smile. You look weird. Also everything is done, reduced to ashes. What’s our payment, Acting Grand Sage?”

Alhaitham hums, and everything fades into the background. He thinks of you lounging in your home, watering your plants, and decorating your journal. Just like how it’s supposed to be, in the first place. He even cleaned some parts of your house so that you don’t exhaust yourself too much upon your first day.

Thank the Archons that he has the perfect partner, an authentic group of friends, a beautiful community, and a stable job. 

(Y/N) will never have to venture out again. 

Ever. 

[catcze]

Wriothesley can hear your loud stomps from a mile away as you furiously speed-walk to his office door like a bloodhound trailing a scent. Even if not for that, the way that you bang your fist on the door is enough to grab his attention.

"WRIOTHESLEY." Comes booming in from the other side of the door. It's thick wood. He wonders how deaf he would have gone if the door hadn't protected him. The door (the thick, supposedly impenetrable door) rattles on its hinges like a screen in a hurricane when you try to kick it again. "DID YOU EAT MY DONUTS."

It's not even an accusation at that point. It's practically a declaration of war.

"WRIOTHESLEY!" You yell so loudly a group of guards turning the corner down the hall scramble back the way they came. "Open up, jackass!"

Wriothesley, knowing he cannot escape the consequences of his actions, merely settles deeper into his chair as he drinks his tea. His last meal. Drink. Similar thing.

The door keeps rattling as you yell profanities at him, until one of his traitorous guards approaches you hesitantly, saying not a single word but offering up the spare key to his office with shaky hands, head low and aggressively avoiding eye contact.

"Oh!" you say, demeanor switching immediately, losing the intimidating glint in your eye as you gingerly take the key. You smile kindly. "Thank you very much!"

Then you turn back to the door, the threat of violence in your eye as you wield the key like a weapon of war, inserting it into the keyhole and twisting it with a dark finality. The guard wonders if they should fear for their superior's wellbeing.

Wriothesley looks up from his newspaper as you close the door ominously behind you, somehow maintaining a blasé facadé even while staring down certain death.

"Well?" you prompt him, eye twitching like a stressed villain from a kid's cartoon show. You round on him in an instant, too quick for him to escape. Somehow, he keeps up his poker face. "Care to explain where my donuts went, Duke of Meropide?"

"I didn't eat them," He deadpans, staring you right in the eye. He pointedly does not acknowledge the white powdered sugar on his face.

"There's white powdered sugar on your face."

"Ah. So there is."

Another cartoony villain eye twitch. "Want to try that again?"

"...I love you?"

"And I love you. Last chance, though."

And he folds like a lawn chair. Wriothesley knows this is a fight he can't win. Even Neuvillette would tell him it's best to just kick the bucket and plead guilty at this point. He sighs breaking eye contact first like a wolf with its tail between its legs.

"Okay, I'll buy you another dozen of them."

You cross your arms, staring at him. He sighs.

"Another two dozen."

You soften just the slightest bit, coming close to perch on his lap and lean into his space. Instinctively, his arms come to wrap around your middle, pulling you against him.

"And?"

Wriothesley leans forward too, enough for your foreheads to touch. You can feel the breath of his sigh against your lips.

"And you have my sincerest apologies for taking your things. In my defense, I thought they were mine at first.”

“Apology accepted,” you say, satisfied, and peck him quickly on the lips. Before it can turn into anything else though, you’re springing up from his lap. Ignoring the disappointed furrow in his brow and the way his arms have still not moved from their position holding you earlier, you take his hand and pull him up from his chair with such startling enthusiasm and surprising strength that it has him stumbling for a second. You pull him towards the door regardless.

“C’mon, you’re making good on that apology right now, Wrio! Hope you finished your work!”

And no, technically he hasn’t finished his work. But he already knows that you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and that pushing that work to tomorrow wouldn’t hurt. Probably. Whatever— it’d be worth it.

So he just sighs and gives the palm resting in his a squeeze and let’s himself be pulled along. You squeeze back.

“As long as you let me have a few. Those were pretty good.”

[seoplassy]

Exploring the Flavorful World of Hing Dal Tadka

In the vibrant landscape of Indian cuisine, few dishes hold as much comfort and flavor as the beloved Hing Dal Tadka. This hearty lentil soup, infused with the distinct aroma of Hing Powder (also known as asafetida powder), is a staple in many households, offering nourishment and warmth with every spoonful. Let's delve into the rich tapestry of flavors and traditions that surround this cherished dish.

Hing Powder, derived from the resin of the Ferula plant, is a key ingredient in Indian cooking, prized for its pungent aroma and digestive properties. Known for centuries in Ayurvedic medicine for its ability to aid digestion and promote overall wellness, Hing Powder adds depth and complexity to dishes like Hing Dal Tadka.

Lentils, the heart of this dish, come in a variety of shapes, sizes, and colors, each imparting its unique flavor and texture. From the creamy richness of yellow lentils to the earthy bite of brown lentils, the choice of lentil can dramatically influence the character of the dal. Combined with aromatic spices and tempered with Hing Powder, the lentils transform into a dish that's both comforting and invigorating.

The tempering process, known as tadka, is a quintessential step in Indian cooking that involves blooming spices in hot oil to release their flavors. In Hing Dal Tadka, the tempering of mustard seeds, cumin seeds, garlic, and Asafetida Powder creates a fragrant sizzle that permeates the entire dish, elevating it to new heights of deliciousness.

Beyond its culinary delights, Hing Dal Tadka is also a nutritional powerhouse. Lentils are a rich source of plant-based protein, fiber, and essential nutrients, making them a staple in vegetarian and vegan diets. Paired with whole grains like rice or bread, Hing Dal Tadka offers a complete and balanced meal that satisfies both the palate and the body.

The versatility of Hing Powder extends beyond Hing Dal Tadka, finding its way into a myriad of dishes across Indian cuisine. From vegetable curries to savory snacks, Hing Powder lends its distinctive flavor and aroma to every dish it graces. Whether used sparingly as a background note or boldly as the star of the show, Hing Powder adds a touch of magic to every meal it touches.

As we explore the world of Hing Dal Tadka and Hing Powder, we uncover not just a recipe, but a story—a story of tradition, innovation, and the timeless art of Indian cooking. With each spoonful of this soul-satisfying dish, we taste the centuries of culinary wisdom passed down through generations, reminding us of the power of food to nourish not just the body, but the spirit as well.

In conclusion, Hing Dal Tadka is more than just a dish—it's a celebration of flavors, textures, and traditions that have stood the test of time. With its hearty lentils, aromatic spices, and tempered Hing Powder, this beloved dish embodies the essence of Indian cuisine, offering comfort, nourishment, and joy to all who partake in its delicious embrace.

[chiraagi-spices]

Hing powder

A strong and aromatic spice that is frequently used in Indian cooking is hing powder, commonly referred to as asafoetida powder. Hing powder is a unique flavor and aroma that enhances the richness and nuance of many foods. 

Hing powder releases a mild umami flavor that is reminiscent of onions and garlic when cooked, despite having a strong fragrance when raw. Because of this, it is a widely used ingredient in vegetarian and vegan cooking, where it acts as a tasty stand-in for aromatics. 

Hing powder usually has a limited usage in Indian cooking because a little bit goes a long way. It is frequently added to hot oil or ghee before cooking in order to balance and intensify the flavors of the spices. In addition to being a crucial part of numerous spice mixtures like sambar and curry powder, hing powder is also used to season rice dishes, stir-fried vegetables, and lentil foods.

Hing powder is an all-around adaptable spice that enhances a variety of foods with depth, flavor, and scent. Hing powder is a staple of Indian cooking and a favorite seasoning for both professional chefs and home cooks. It can be used to increase the digestive qualities of food or to temper spices. 

https://chiraagispices.com/hing-powder/ 

https://chiraagispices.com/hing-powder/

[huramuna]

growing on you - oneshot.

modern aemond x (ex) girlfriend reader

content: smut (specifics under the cut), afab reader, angst, unhealthy coping mechanisms, descriptions of depression and its effect on the body, probably an unhealthy relationship, aemond being an idiot, probably ooc aemond, reader not described, no use of y/n, targtowers seek therapy: the story, fluff at the end bc hehe

work is 18+, minors do not interact or you shall be smited.

word count: 7.4k (oops)

a/n: i've had this one in the drafts for a while. tweaked to be a fun 'lil angsty end of year holiday fic. as is my motto: fuck it we ball. a/n 2: i pivoted from a third person pov fic to a second person pov fic 3/4 through writing this using the find and replace tool, so if there are grammar errors, i apologize! also my first time doing second person pov, weehee.

monsters - all time low ft. blackbear • why do i - set it off ft. hatsune miku

warnings: p in v, creampie, cockwarming, slightly tipsy sex

Everything in your life was enveloped by him. your clothes smelled like him, small strands of his hair were woven into every nook and cranny of your apartment together, his fitness regime protein powder and ketogenic supplements were littered in your kitchen cabinets. 

You couldn’t get rid of him, not even if you tried. Aemond was all you'd ever known— you have known one another since the age of seven, and have been in a relationship since fourteen. You were both now twenty-six. Twelve years you’ve been together romantically (longer, even, but you were both too stubborn to admit it) and nineteen years you’ve been in each other's lives in some capacity or another. 

You’ve been involved together longer than you’ve not known each other. You hardly knew who you were without Aemond— a thought that scared you deeply. 

It’s been two weeks since he moved out, only temporarily he’d said. He needed space. He would still pay his share of the rent and you didn’t need to worry about that. 

But what about everything else? What about him warming you at night? Comforting you when you had nightmares? What about his items in the fridge, surely you’d spoil if he didn’t use them soon. What about Vhagar? Their— no, his geriatric cat that he took with him to God knows where— she must be terrified, surely. 

Was he giving Vhagar her medicine before bed? Of course he was— he was the more responsible one anyway. 

You paced back and forth until the soles of your feet ached and then some. Knowing Aemond for so long, you had intimate knowledge on everything about him, you were woven into each other's DNA like vines on a trellis, growing and expanding until you swallowed all of the other plants whole. 

That is what happened, wasn’t it? You grew too large, too comfortable and became stagnant. You weren't unaware of his rising workload at his firm, but he had always been a workaholic— throughout their teenage years, through college and grad school. It never slowed him down so you didn’t understand the change in behavior. 

Aemond was closed off. He always was a bit emotionally stunted due to his upbringing or lack thereof from his father and everything that happened surrounding his eye, but he had a soft side for you, always for you. You could retrace every part of him perfectly from memory, always could make him laugh, could comfort him when he recused himself, and the rare times he did cry, you were there. 

But the last few months there was a shift— a change in him. Where he had been hard to open before, like a rusty hinge just requiring some oil, he was now padlocked, ironclad and impenetrable. Attempts to talk were shrugged off, ignored or diverted. 

“Please, just talk to me, Aemond,” you said one night as you sat on the couch. You were watching your collective favorite show and he wasn’t even commenting on it like he usually did, he was silent and deadpanned. “I don’t understand what’s wrong if you don’t talk about it.” 

“There's nothing wrong, therefore, nothing to talk about. I’m just tired from work,” he responded gruffly. “Stop whining.” 

His tone was clipped and harsh, sending a wave of hurt trickling through your body. you were overly emotional, where he was under emotional— usually, you balanced each other out and struck a good middle ground, but in times like these, during fights, things would get explosive. 

The tears started right away, your little sniffling cries stifled by a hand over your mouth. You turned away, wrapping yourself in the blanket. 

“Seriously?” he growled, “I didn’t even say anything and you’re fucking crying again.”

“I d-don’t appreciate your tone, Aemond— you’re being mean,” you sniffed, wiping away tears that were soon just replaced by new ones. “Please, don’t be mean to me.” you were always soft hearted, and it was one of the things Aemond loved about you— or he had loved at one point. 

“I’m not being mean,” he pinched his brow, “you’re overreacting and I do not have the capacity to deal with your antics anymore.” 

Of course, your mind hit the panic button. ‘Anymore’ meaning that he didn’t want to deal with you at all, ever. The tears increased and you recused yourself further into a ball. 

“Fucking hell.” he cursed, getting up from the couch and stomping outside to the balcony, lighting up a cigarette. He was out there for about an hour— you had cried yourself to sleep. 

It was many situations like that for weeks that finally just… broke him. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he said one day, slamming his keys down on the kitchen table, “I seriously cannot deal with your childish shit anymore— I’m working my ass off at the firm, actually bringing in money and I still have to come home and tend to you. you’re twenty-six, grow up and stop crying at every little thing. It’s fucking infuriating.” 

“You know I can’t control that part of me!” you screamed back, your temper rising immediately to match his. The words flowing out of your mouth didn’t feel like yours, but some sort of defensive mechanism. “You can’t do this anymore? You’re not doing anything Aemond, except pushing me away. God, you haven’t even touched me in weeks.” 

“Oh, so this is about sex?” he countered, getting closer to you, nostrils flaring. “You’re mad because I won’t fuck you? Are you that desperate?” 

That one stung, to be sure. Aemond had been your first and only— you only ever knew him, only ever had him. “No, not just sex,” you murmured, “you haven’t even… just touched me normally. No hugs, no little caresses, nothing— it's as if I’m an aversion to you.”

He backed up from you, “Maybe we’re just too close,” he admitted, “We’ve been together too long. It's not fun anymore, it’s not new— it’s the same old, same old, going through the motions for release, not because I actually like it.” 

“I don’t understand.” you said, your voice sounding disconnected from your body. The tips of your fingers felt numb, the numbness spreading through your body, your heart pounding in your chest as if it wanted to escape. 

“I need space. I need to think about this.” 

“This?”

“Us. I need to think about us and if this is something I really want,” he paused, “You’re… too much and not enough right now.” 

“Wh— Aemond, please,” you whispered, your voice broken, “What can I do? I’ll… I’ll change, I won’t cry or whine anymore— please.” 

He stared at you, his prosthetic eye unmoving while his remaining one bored into you, “I will think about it.” 

“What… does this mean?”

“We are taking a break, alright? I’ll have my essentials out and I’m going to stay with Aegon.” 

“Please— don’t go. I need you.” 

That was the end of that conversation. That was the last time you spoke, two weeks ago. You expected him to text you at some point, to check in on you, to maybe try to talk things out. 

Nothing. There's been nothing. Radio silence. 

You felt isolated— you had no family, as your parents were estranged from you. you couldn’t go to Aemond’s family, as close as you were to them all, it just simply wasn’t an option. 

You didn’t have friends. All you knew was Aemond. 

It was early in the evening and you were in a deep pit of self-loathing. You decided to text him. 

You swallowed thickly— the green meant he either turned off his phone or blocked you. You hoped that it wasn’t the latter. 

The next few weeks were a blur. You felt like you were barely living, merely going through the motions to stay alive— not that you really were. 

You woke up, went to work, came home, scrounged up food and then went to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

Weeks become months of your monotony, and no word from Aemond. He still had half of his stuff left in the apartment, you felt like you could barely breathe. At every turn there was something to remind you of him. 

You’d lived in this apartment together for four years, the evidence of your relationship etched into the very walls. It was like the space was closing in on you and you couldn’t catch your breath, barely keeping your head above water. 

You had to move out— you had to get away. 

You managed to find a place, a cheap studio above a coffee shop downtown. The landlord was an old lady who was sympathetic to your situation and agreed to let you take the space quickly. 

There was still the matter of your and Aemond’s current apartment— or, rather, it was just Aemond’s now. 

Saving yourself the embarrassment of seeing if you were still blocked, you called Aegon. He was a better messenger than none. 

“Hey, Egg,” you said, sitting on the couch. you bounced your knee up and down, biting at the skin of your lip. You and Aegon were amicable, not necessarily as close as you and Aemond, but you grew up together. Aegon ran in different social circles than you and you were somewhat polar opposites so you never really stuck— you did have your phases of friendship, though– which pissed Aemond off to no end. “Um, I don’t know if this is the right way to go about things but, do you mind relaying a message to Aemond for me?”

“Yeah, ‘spose I could. What’s up?” Aegon replied, his tone nonchalant like usual.

“I’m moving out of the apartment into my own place, so I guess he can go back. I’ll have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Aegon said, “He’s been driving me up the wall with his tidy, feng shui bullshit. He rearranged my whole place like five times and has taken up all the space in my cabinets with that nasty no-carb shit,” he paused for a moment, “I… didn’t mean that in a bad way to you, ‘course. I’m sorry it had to come to this. He’s a fucking idiot.”

That made you laugh, genuinely. Your first laugh in months. “Yeah– he… tends to do that. He left half of his stuff here, it feels like I’m living in the twilight zone. I just… gotta get away, you know?”

“Hey, I get that– you don’t have to explain yourself to me. He’s a dickhead and doesn’t understand how good he has it. If you want, I can bring my truck over tomorrow and help you move stuff.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Egg.”

“I want to– please.”

Your brow furrowed– Aegon usually wasn’t so persistent on anything unless it involved drinking or drugs. But, you hadn’t had real human contact in eons besides at work so… maybe it could be good.

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Thank you, really.”

–

It was rainy the next day– nasty and wet, droplets pouring down like tears. It felt somewhat familiar.

But, Aegon showed up like he promised, rolling up in his old, fading yellow pick-up truck. His hair was much shorter than you remembered and he looked actually well kept– Aemond must’ve been whipping him into shape.

He waved and ran through the rain, standing under the eave, “So– it’s raining.”

You snorted, “I think I can see that,” you teased with a tiny smile, “Not sure when it’ll let up.”

“I brought uh…” he paused for a moment to think, stretching out his arms in a square shape, “Y’know?”

“A tarp?” 

“Yup– that,” he gave a lopsided grin, inviting himself in through the open door, “you aren’t going to kick me out if I don’t take off my shoes, right?”

You glanced down at his boots– they were a bit muddy and definitely wet. Aemond wouldn’t have let him step two feet through the threshold without taking them off. But– you weren't Aemond. “No, keep them on if you want. It’s not my problem if you track dirt through the place anyway.”

He nodded, taking his phone out of his pocket for a moment and shooting a quick message to someone. “Sorry I haven’t been around, it’s just… he’s my brother. It would be kind of… I dunno, crossing some sort of unsaid boundary if I visited his… girlfriend?”

“Ex-girlfriend. I guess,” you corrected softly– but you didn’t really know yourself what it was. He wouldn’t talk to you, “It’s fine. I didn’t expect anyone to really reach out anyway, because of that… unsaid boundary thing.”

“We should’ve. you’re a part of our family with or without Aemond. Me, Helaena and Daeron have a whole group chat about it. Even mom asked where you’ve been,” he scratched the back of his head absentmindedly as he sent out another text, “Someone should’ve checked up sooner.”

“You’re acting like I’m some sort of neglected puppy, Aegon,” you turned to him, “... do I really look so terrible?”

Aegon glanced up at you, his mouth formed in a hard line. He cracked his knuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. You look half dead.”

You blinked. Hard. Moving towards a mirror in the hall, you looked at yourself. Dark circles under sunken eyes, your skin was a pale pallor and your hair needed a trim desperately, your split ends curled and fettered. You were gaunt, as well– having lost a bit of weight over the months. “Jesus,” you muttered. Glancing over at Aegon, he was texting again. “Sending an update to the group chat, I guess? ‘Good news, she’s still alive, barely’?”

He snorted, “Yeah– something like that,” finally, he locked his phone and slipped it in his pocket. “I made sure to text Aemond, too.”

Your mouth felt dry at the mention. “Why?”

“He asked.”

“Asked?”

“He asked me to… make sure you were okay.”

Goosebumps prickled at your skin, the ever familiar feeling of nausea and despair swirling in the pit of your stomach. Nibbling at your lip more, you turned away, feeling a bit too exposed. “And what’d you say?”

“I said you were alive but you are not okay.”

Your lips pursed into a line as you tasted a bit of copper in your mouth from chewing on your lip. “I guess that’s right,” you muttered, “Why would he ask?”

“Aemond is… complicated. you know that better than anyone. I don’t know what kind of bug he has up his ass these last few months but… even through all of this, he still cares.”

“Like hell he does,” you snapped, feeling the sting of tears, “If he did, he would’ve given us a chance to talk it out, to… to try, maybe even go to therapy, I don’t fucking know– he would’ve reached out– anyone should’ve reached out,” your hand went to your hair, right at your hairline at your scalp, picking at the hairs there– another self-destructive habit you’ve picked up in your months of isolation, “I’m so fucking alone, Aegon. He knows… you all know I have absolutely no one else. I’ve been going through this on my own. I have no friends, no family– no brother to go live with when I need space, no family group chat. I don’t have shit, Aegon. All I’ve ever known in my life is him and you and Helaena and Daeron and mom. Why… why does it feel like I was cast off the island without even… a tribal council or something?” you sniffed, the tears coming in full force now. 

Aegon was silent, coming up behind you. “I’m… sorry,” he murmured, putting his hands on your shoulders, as frail and skeletal as you were, “We should’ve been better. We… will be better.” he turned you around and pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in his arms. “We thought you would’ve been… fine without him. He made it seem like that– that you were strong enough. I only figured it out yesterday when he was up my ass about texting him as soon as I saw you. He needed to know if you were feeding yourself, if you were keeping up with your medication, if you still had nightmares. A fuckin’... laundry list of questions– I told him to stick his questions up where the sun don’t shine and to see for himself,” he took a breath, “He settled on one question– if you were okay.”

“I think he got his fucking answer, then,” you whispered, “I am not okay. I haven’t been okay in months. I… I need help.”

“I know,” Aegon shifted you slightly to look at your face, “We’ll help you– I promise, you won’t be alone anymore. Look, I’ll even add you to the group chat, okay? I’ll rename it to ‘Aemond Sucks’, how does that sound?” 

You cracked a tiny smile, sniffling. “Yeah… I’d like that.”

– 

You ended up moving your belongings to your new place the same day, effectively ridding yourself of the constant shadow of Aemond’s memory.

Aegon even took you to Michael’s and HomeGoods to get stuff for your little studio, so you could really make it yours. It was a bit intimidating at first– you weren't used to being able to decorate things the way you wanted, as Aemond always opted to keep things simple and minimalistic. 

You, admittedly, went all out. Your new studio looked like a Pinterest board titled ‘cottagecore’. You were incredibly happy with it all, practically jumping up and down at it.

“It looks so good! I love these little mushroom chairs you picked out, Egg,” you hummed, patting some plush felted stools in the shape of mushrooms, which you put near the window. “I bet Helaena would love it.”

“Let’s take some pictures for the group chat, Hel will literally be all over this. you two always love that cottagecore, fairycore, fantasy… shit.” he grinned, stooping down to take some very out of perspective pictures of the mushroom chairs, making them look fifty feet tall.

You settled into your new place quickly, having Helaena, Aegon and Daeron over quite often for drinks and movies. Your health steadily improved until you were mostly back to normal physically– there would be a lot of scars internally, however that would take longer to heal, if you ever would. You had developed a trust issue complex since Aemond’s unceremonious exit from your life and hadn’t gone on any dates, you didn’t know when or if you would ever be ready. They did you the courtesy of not mentioning Aemond, until Daeron said something odd.

It was about four months after you moved in, and almost a full year since you’d last seen Aemond. You were all a few mixed drinks in, Aegon had made them and you were heavy on the alcohol, light on the ‘mix’, and you were all kicked back on the couch, with Aegon laying on the mushroom chairs stacked next to each other, lazed back like a cat. 

“Mom says she wants you over for Christmas dinner,” Daeron said, taking a sip of his drink, “She figured it’d be fine with Aemond going off with his new…” he blinked, catching himself. 

Helaena nudged Daeron in the ribs as a warning, staring at their friend warily.

“... his new? His new what?” you asked, your voice so quiet that it must’ve been like a squeak.

“... new girlfriend.” he finished.

You were silent for a while before sighing. “I figured it would happen eventually. I can only hope that it… wasn’t too soon after we broke up– or whatever… happened.”

“We all told him it was fucked up that he just left and ghosted you, lovey. Even mom got on his ass about it, and he is her favorite child who usually can do no wrong.” Helaena put her drink down, wrapping her arm around you. “You should come to Christmas dinner, everyone would be super happy to see you! And Aemond won’t be there, so even more reason to come. Please.” she whimpered, using her best puppy-dog face.

You mulled it over in your mind for a few moments. You couldn’t think of anything more painful than being alone during the holidays, so you nodded.

–

It was snowing on Christmas day, the flurries coming down and melting against your skin as you waited for Aegon to pick you up. You were wearing a red checkered tapestry dress with a flannel jacket, a white fluffed scarf wrapped around your neck and lower face. As soon as you saw the familiar color of Aegon’s truck, you practically booked it into the passenger seat. 

“Merry Christmas, you look fantastic,” Aegon mused, ever the charmer. “I’ve got the heater on full blast, I promise– but y’know my old boy’s puttering these days. We’ll need to get some speed for it to really warm up.” 

“Mmm,” you murmured, your teeth chattering, “S’cold.” 

He reached back and grabbed a well-used blanket, draping it over your legs. “Better?”

“... yeah– but,” you blinked, raising a brow. “What do you have this in the truck for?”

Aegon laughed as he began the drive to his family’s estate. “I think you know.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve fucked someone on this blanket, Aegon.”

“Someones– not just someone. But I keep it clean, no worries!”

The drive to the Targaryen estate was about an hour and a half from town, nestled deep into an expansive forest where there weren’t any other homes in at least five miles. It was a gorgeous, Victorian style mansion and according to Daeron, was most certainly haunted. You had been here numerous times, of course, but it’d been a while. As you pulled up in the driveway, you saw Alicent standing outside the door dressed in a gorgeous red and green festive dress, hair curled to perfection. Nothing less was expected of Alicent, though.

“Oh, my darling,” Alicent cooed, holding her arms out to caress who she thought of as her fifth child. “It’s been too long, I’ve missed you.” 

Your heart warmed under Alicent’s caress, someone who had become more of a mother figure to you than your actual mother. You sniffed, pressing your forehead into Alicent’s shoulder. “Missed you too, mom.” 

“Come on, you both can cry inside in the nice toasty house, yeah? I’m freezing my balls off here, mom.” 

Alicent huffed, ushering both of you inside. “Don’t be vulgar, son– it’s Christmas.”

Helaena and Daeron were already there, as well as Otto, who gave you a stiff nod as a greeting, as was his usual means of communication.

You settled into the kitchen, Alicent pouring everyone apple cider and dishing out at least six types of holiday themed cookies. About an hour after arriving, there was a knock on the door. 

“Oh, that must be Rhaenyra and Laena. Can you answer the door, darling? I need to take the roast out of the oven. I’m sure they would be happy to see you!” 

“Mhm!” you mused through bites of cookies. You loved Rhaenyra and Laena, who were technically married with husbands, as was Alicent, but the three of them were in a secret, not so secret to anyone with eyes, polyamorous relationship. It always amused all of their kids when they tried to hide it. 

You turned the doorknob, fully expecting to see Rhaenyra and Laena. It was not. 

Aemond.

“Fuck.” you blurted out, eyes wide. It had been the better part of a year since you had last seen him. His hair was longer now, gathered into a low bun at the nape of his neck, his cheeks a bit more gaunt. He still wore his earrings and his rings– including the one you had given him almost a decade ago. 

“Shit.” he responded, seemingly caught equally off guard by seeing you again. The pupil of his non-prosthetic eye dilated until the iris was almost consumed in black, before he flexed his hand and reeled himself in. 

You couldn’t help but notice he was alone– no ‘new girlfriend’ as Daeron had put it. “Aemond,” you breathed, feeling like you were outside of your own body, your head filled with fluff and static. “Merry… Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” he responded gruffly, “Can I come in?”

“Oh– yeah, duh,” you chastised yourself, stepping aside to let him in. “Sorry.”

“Mm.” he grunted in his usual manner. That seemed to be a habit he hadn’t dropped. 

You all but retreated to the kitchen, the expression on your face telling everything. Aegon, Daeron, and Helaena gathered around you.

“I didn’t invite him, I swear.” Aegon whispered.

“Well, neither did I!” Daeron professed.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t invite him. He left me on read three weeks ago when I sent him a picture of a bug on my windowsill.” Helaena sniffed.

A new voice chimed in. “I invited him,” Alicent spoke, breaking up the little posse, “I told him to come over or he would be grounded for three months.” 

All four of you stared at Alicent, deadpanned. 

“Mom– he’s… almost twenty-seven. you can’t ground him,” Daeron said, confused. “And moreover, why? Wasn’t he busy?”

“Well, first off, he is my son, so I wanted to see him for Christmas. Two, I believe we have someone here who has some unresolved issues with him.” Alicent responded, staring right at you pointedly.

“... I don’t know… I… I don’t know if I can talk to him. It’s been too long… I feel like I was just getting over all of this.”

“Well, do I have any say in this?” Aemond barged into the circle, his hands in his pockets. 

You suddenly felt overwhelmed, the familiar bubbling of everything being too much rising in your stomach. You were teleported back to months ago when you were barely alive, trapped in your own mind. “I… I need… I need a minute.” you muttered, your voice sounding distorted as you made your way to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Chest heaving, you were already crying, the waterworks starting somewhere between the hallway and the sink. 

“You’re always fucking crying, I can’t take it anymore.” Aemond’s voice from months and months ago echoed in your head, causing the tears to flow more. You bit against your lip, tasting blood right away as you willed yourself to stop crying. 

“S-stop… stop crying,” you whispered, fingers messing up your hair as you held fistfuls of it. You couldn’t catch your composure for the life of you, sliding against the bathroom wall onto the floor.

Vision blurring, you don’t know how long you were incoherent for. When you came back to yourself, Aemond was in front of you, crouched down.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, the door closed behind him, “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, still numb as he pried your fists from your head, out of your hair, smoothing it down.

“Look at me, can you do that? Nod if you can hear me.”

You nodded slowly, the feeling coming back to your extremities in a sprightly tickling sensation. You blinked tears from your eyes, the liquid smearing your vision. 

Aemond rasped a thumb over your eyes, effectively clearing the obstruction from your vision. “Just breathe,” he continued to whisper. It was ever reminiscent of when he would calm you down after a nightmare, voice low and scratchy in a way that comforted you. He was so close now, closer than he’d been in forever. He still smelled the same, the scent triggering a deep aching within your chest. A scent that took you forever to get rid of, but you never truly could. “Can… we talk?” he asked then, his voice sounding more vulnerable than ever. 

It felt like whiplash, visions of your previous fights plaguing you, where he had been so closed off, so far away, so distant that you couldn’t reach him– and now, he was here. In the present, in the flesh. In front of you, opened. Not opened completely, but you could see it, like the slit of a cracked door, the light bleeding through. It was there.

“... yeah.”

“I… I’m… I’m sorry. What I did was fucked up. It was fucked up and wrong and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You’re right about that,” you muttered, pulling your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “I didn’t deserve it.” 

Aemond’s mouth twitched slightly before he sat down next to you, propping up his legs in a criss-cross. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before closing it. His hands flexed and unflexed in quick succession– he was clearly thinking very carefully about his next words. “... I’ve… got issues. You know that better than anyone. I don’t know what was going through my head those months that we fought. I can hardly remember it now, it was like… I was in a fog, a haze– I was working myself half to death, I just wanted dad to notice, to fucking… appreciate me,” he put his hands on his head, “I was so… tied up in this illusion that if I made junior associate at the firm so young that he would congratulate me on my achievement and…” Aemond let out a sigh, “And… in the process… I pushed you away.”

You looked at him, feeling your gaze soften ever so slightly. You knew that his father was a sore spot for him and that trauma ran deep. “You didn’t just push me away, Aemond,” you sighed, reaching out a shaky hand to pry one of his from his face. “... if you would’ve just talked to me, I could’ve helped. You didn’t push… you… you shoved, you shoved and ran in the other direction.”

His one violet eye danced towards you. “I know. I’ve been kicking myself for it. When Aegon told me you weren’t doing well… I almost left work to see you.”

“... you did?”

“Yeah. Aegon basically told me not to– that… this was something you needed space for. Kind of like I did but… maybe in a more healthy way.”

“A text wouldn’t have hurt.” 

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone– his wallpaper was still the same as it was, a picture of you, him and Vhagar very unhappy in an elf costume. He scrolled to his notes app, which was filled with messages addressed to you. “... I thought it might, after what Aegon had said. I was… ashamed of how I acted, how I handled the whole thing– how I left you alone without a word. He told me how you looked… dead. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

Your eyes scanned the messages, picking out some words. The main ones that caught your gaze were ‘sorry’, ‘love’, ‘regret’. A huge breath left your lungs, feeling as if everything had been knocked out of you at once. You felt like you were being whipped back and forth in the wind, trying to grab onto anything. If you both weren’t so stubborn and just messaged one another– well, no. You did message him, one time. “I thought you blocked me.” 

“... for five minutes, maybe.”

“God, we’re so fucking stupid, Aemond.”

“You aren’t– don’t say that. I’m literally a dumbass. All of my siblings told me so, even my own mother, and you know she never curses.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked onto your face as you jostled his shoulder. “Yeah… you are a dumbass. I am allowed to say it at least once. So, um,” you shuffled slightly, “Daeron kind of let it slip that you had a new girlfriend?”

Aemond pinched his brow. “Of course he said that. He is twenty-one years old and still doesn’t know how to use his goddamn ears. I said I was seeing a new therapist, not that I had a fucking girlfriend.”

“A therapist?”

“... things got really dark for me after I moved back into our… no, my… place. After you officially moved out. It felt lifeless, all of your things were gone, the fucking warmth sucked out of the place. It felt like it’d been sterilized of anything… good. I feel into something– I don’t know, a depression? I guess, that’s what Aegon called it. He suggested I see a therapist, citing me as ‘an emotionally stunted asshole who needs more therapy than him’.” he exaggerated the last bit with air quotes, rolling his eye.

“... he isn’t wrong. I mean, I love your family, but all of you are all kinds of fucked up. Maybe I am too, practically being a part of it.”

Aemond chuckled, giving a tight lipped smile. “We are fucked up. I realized that… I really do not give a shit what my dad thinks, because nothing will ever be good enough for him. He’s so far gone now that he probably doesn’t even know we exist. I’ve come to terms with that and honestly… it feels like a weight has been lifted.”

“I’m glad you could… work through some of that, Aemond.” you say sincerely, resting your cheek on his arm absentmindedly. 

“... I want to talk about us.”

“... us. Okay.”

“I don’t expect you to want to jump right back into things. It would be unfair to think that– but… maybe we could try?”

Your chest feels a bit tight at his admission– he wanted to try. Every fiber in your being wanted to say yes and jump back into it like you’d never left. But you knew you couldn’t. There were still parts of you scarred by this whole experience, some parts that may never heal. It would take a long time and a lot of talks like this to even get some semblance of what the both of you had. “Well… before we were together, believe it or not, we were friends. Could we… try that for right now?”

His chest visibly deflated a bit, but he nodded. “Whatever you need, okay?”

–

The days following Christmas, leading up to New Year’s were… different. You and Aemond were back in contact, going out for coffee and lunch a few times.

On the day before New Year’s eve, you texted him.

Turns out, timing the movie to sync with 12 am on New Year’s day to Toby Maguire saying ‘Pizza time’ was difficult. Well, it wasn’t difficult for normal people– but you and Aemond were a bit tipsy, as Aegon had left some hard apple ciders in your fridge, to which you both indulged.

“Okay, okay,” Aemond stared at his phone, “5… 4… 2… wait, no, fuck, 3… 2… I think we fucked it up– just go, go!”

Quickly, you started the movie. “Maybe we should’ve practiced– can we start over?” you plopped on the couch, sinking into the sofa and taking a swig of the cider.

“Doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. Can’t turn back time.” he mused softly, squatting down on one of the mushroom stools. “Pretty comfy.”

“Aegon picked those out, nifty, huh?”

“Nifty.” he parroted. 

The movie continued on, but as it went on, there was an unspoken tension growing. Aemond hadn’t sat on the couch, but rather, the stools that were on the other side of the room. It felt like a chasm had formed, the strain almost palpable. 

You chewed on your lip anxiously, contemplating whether or not to say anything. But, you had both been trying a new technique called ‘communication’ – a pretty cool and helpful thing that Aemond’s therapist had taught him. You remember laughing when he posed it that same way– but it was extremely important. You cleared your throat. “Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

“... um. I wanted to try the mushroom seats, I guess.”

“You don’t want to sit next to me?” you countered, feeling especially brave. 

“Is that… alright?” 

“Um, duh. I invited you over for pizza and a movie so we could… sit together. Not for you to be half a mile away sitting on a mushroom.”

“As long as it’s alright with you.” he murmured, sitting up from the mushroom stool and making his way over to you, sliding onto the couch, still a few feet away from you.

You weren’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the pent up emotions, the small buzz of alcohol, or a destructive cocktail of all three, but you inched closer to him. Closer, closer… until your thighs were touching. You glanced up at him beneath fettered lashes. “Hi.”

“Hey.” he responded, his voice low and warm. It caused a balmy and comforting vibration to go through you, reverberating in your chest. 

You became all too aware of your movements, your closeness to him, the skin of your thigh grazing against his jeans as you got as close as you could. Your lips parted slightly as he stared back down at you. “Can… we?”

“Can we, what?” he murmured, lacing his fingers through your loose hair, gently grasping it at the nape of your neck. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“... kiss. A little bit.”

“Just a little bit?” 

“Mhm. A teeny bit.” you leaned up, Aemond meeting you halfway as your lips came together. The culmination of your year apart, all of the emotions, the sadness, the frustration and anger, the passion, love, tears– all of it came together at this moment as the two of you melded together perfectly, as if you’d never left. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment, followed by what could only be articulated as a moan. 

It caught both of you off guard, Aemond pulling away for a moment, his lips still ghosting over yours. “Fucking hell,” he breathed against your skin, sending goosebumps tingling from your tailbone up to the nape of your neck, the hairs on your body standing on end. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you,” you responded before latching onto him once more. It started off loving and slow, your lips moving against one another like two old lovers dancing together– then it began to heat up, your mouth parting to accommodate his tongue, gnashing against yours as their dance turned up a notch. Your hands roamed his body, everything you committed to memory for so many years still in its same spot. It felt good, it felt like home. “Please, Aemond– I… I need you. It’s been so long… too long…”

“Too long since I’ve had you, had this,” his hand reached down, cupping your mound still hidden beneath your panties. Somehow, you foresaw this moment before it happened and thankfully wore a light dress. “Let me in, love.”

You parted your legs, feeling the ever familiar crook of his fingers slide down the front of your panties, testing the waters. The pad of his thumb and middle finger locked on instantly to your clit, swirling the sensitive bud, sending electric shocks through your extremities. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, pressing your forehead against his. “Need you inside, now.” you all but growled as you peppered little kisses along the soft flesh of his neck.

He wouldn’t keep you waiting long, as it seemed he needed this as much as you did. He parted your panties to the side, propping you on top of him and sliding you down his length, earning a hissed gasp from both of you. It took all of his strength not to burst in you right then, as you enveloped him in your tight, wet heat. “You were made for me,” he breathed, biting down on your shoulder, leaving red marks. One of his favorite things to do was to mark you, leaving hickies in his wake as he worshiped every inch of exposed skin he could reach. “Melded so perfectly, just for me.” he grabbed the flesh of your bottom, squeezing gently at first, then landing a smack on it as he began to thrust up into you.

You nodded fervently, hiccuping little moans as you dug your face into his shoulder, biting him in turn. Your nails sunk into his skin, indenting against his spine as they always had, as they always were meant to. It felt much like a pianist resting their fingers on the ivories after a long break, the pads of your fingers sinking into the ridges of his very being. You were meant to be here, he was meant to be here. You could feel your end coming on all too soon, his cock filling every nook and cranny of you, bullying that spongy, delicate sweet spot just right. You began to clench, your tell-tale sign to him that you were close. 

“I love you,” he whispered, panting slightly, using one hand to push your face back so you could meet his gaze. His wild, pupil-blown out gaze, cheeks reddened, mouth parted, brow furrowed. “I love you, I fucking love you. I missed you– fuck.”

“I l-love you,” you responded before he parted your lips with his thumb, “Love you so much– p-please, s’close.” you whined into his mouth.

“Let go, sweetheart, c’mon,” he grinned against your lips, nipping and biting at them. “Come for me.”

That was all you needed, the twine of your climax coming undone right in your core, snapping like a taut thread. Your usual habit was to hide your face in his shoulder when you came, whimpering and panting– but he didn’t let you this time. He held your face, staring at you intently as if you were a piece of fine art on display, and he was a connoisseur. 

You clenched around him tightly, spurring him to his own end. His hard wrought fingers gripped your ass like it was a lifeline, grunting as he found his release deep within you, where it was always meant to be. 

Coming down from your high, you slumped against his chest, mouth parted. Embarrassingly enough, a little drool wetted your lips. You were fully and thoroughly fucked out, not even registering that Tobey Maguire said “Pizza time!”

“Happy New Year, love,” Aemond murmured against your hair, nestling you tightly against him. He didn’t pull out– he preferred it this way, having you warm him through until you both fell asleep. 

“... Happy New Year,” you whispered back.

–

Two and a half months later, it was Valentine's day. You and Aemond were officially dating again as of January 2nd, much to the surprise of no one. 

You both took things as slow as you could, keeping separate apartments for the time being– but you’d given him a key to your place about two weeks in, and he was there all the time, taking much needed leave from work. 

Unlocking the door to your apartment, you walked in, seeing Aemond lounging on the couch with a scruffy brown furball on him. 

“Oh, Vhagar! You brought my baby,” you mused, dropping your items (with some grace, so as not to scare the geriatric cat), walking over, “Oh, I hope she remembers me.” you frowned, kneeling down and offering your hand to her.

“Of course she’ll remember, she yelled at me for a good three months at Aegon’s when we were without you.”

Vhagar sniffed your hand for a good minute before blinking her sleepy, lazy eyes at you, then promptly rubbing her scraggly cheek fur on your hand. You were elated, scratching her cheeks, hearing the tinkling of a little bell. 

“A new collar?” 

“Mhm, take a look.”

You swirled the collar around, looking for the name tag– only to find… a ring. An opal and moonstone ring. Your heart stopped in your chest as you stared at Aemond.

“I would get down on one knee– I was intending on you coming home and Vhagar running to you and then you finding it… but she’s on me, and I can’t get up. Cat rules,” he mused, unclipping the collar from her neck and slipping the ring onto your finger. “I know we’ve only been dating for… a month and a half, so stop me if it’s too soon.” he grinned, his toothy smile.

Vhagar gave a croaking meow, promptly jumping off of Aemond’s lap. As soon as the old cat was off, you threw yourself at Aemond, blubbering. “This… this…” you sniffed, unable to form words.

“Just so there isn’t any confusion… will you marry me?” he asked, wiping your tears away with his thumb.

“Yes, yes– I will,” you sniffle, burying your face in his chest and sobbing. 

He let you sob on him, getting his shirt all snotty and wet, all while smiling. 

After crying for at least ten minutes, you manage to take a picture, sending it to the group chat, with the caption: “I think we should add him to the chat now, guys.”

Ding.

“Is this group chat named ‘Aemond sucks’?” 

[godihatethiswebsite]

Simon Riley x reader - Hot Cocoa

CW: childhood abuse, implied alcohol and drug usage, angst/comfort

You didn’t know it at the time, but it was more than just a cup of hot cocoa.

Soft hands–so unlike his mothers–never having been braced against the impact of another’s cruelty, yet clutching his with the same maternal insistence as you slip the steaming mug of sweetness between the gnarled, calloused proof of his misfortunate life. 

There is no preamble of cracked leather; no metal branded welts to be found from a diseased monstrosity who does not care if they are hidden. Simon’s knuckles are intact, not bruised nor split against his sperm donor’s chin. Sentinel instincts are rendered obsolete without the triggering sniffles of his traumatized sibling. No need to keep playing the brave little soldier – the screams of nearby children are not born from brutality.

Doe eyes gaze up at him with an exuberant sparkle, no glassy haze plying you into absent submission. Water molecules of heated breath turning crystalline vapor in the frosty night air hold no trace of ABV – no lingering aroma of whiskey sorrow. The tremble in your bones is from a lack of knitted mittens, not survival induced adrenaline spikes. Frozen fractals catch in silken strands kept immaculate and washed, a polished sheen so unlike her familiar limp straw, reflecting the untarnished soul within he’s done his best to keep pure.

The failure of his mother’s visage haunts his waking past, but the dying warmth of her love renews in an unexpected presence.

He never told you of the act – the ritual of younger nights in a bygone civil hellscape. When the door had finished rattling on rust weathered hinges and the taillights of abuse were all but distant fireflies. When his brother crawled out from his false sanctuary of childhood innocence, having braved the monsters beneath the bed rather than the one he still called ‘papa’. When the woman who should’ve loved them better remembered who she was, the pain of mottled flesh replacing the lucidity of the mind. When he saw his mother for who she was: a woman worn down by sadistic malice. Who was just as much a victim with the scars left on her skin, the pockmarks on her elbows forced there by a stronger hand, the blonde hairs scattered and bloody pulled like cobwebs from her scalp.

Red rimmed eyes spoke wordless apologies for the naivety of her past; for the regrets of choosing wrong the father of her children, the life she wished she had the chance to go back and undo. 

A dead end promise to fix the mistakes of their future – someday.

He clung to the cheap disposable cardboard like the memory of crawling into a threadbare twin, shadows kept at bay with the weak glow from Tommy’s nightlight. The kettle whistled as the pair of them settled, packaged powder dumped into chipped ceramic and brought to them with a shaky smile. He would never voice aloud his own preference for less marshmallows, to give force to the cracks already shattering her resolve. If not for her sake than for his brother’s. 

The expression on your face brings him back from gloomier times, wrapped up in festive cheer all windswept and frost bitten, a backlight of radiance from the bustling market stand you purchased the beverages from. He watches as overeagerness singes your tongue, the small yelp of complaint soothed by a mouthful of whipped cream, the pain doing nothing to retract from the unbridled joy you feel in this simple cherished moment.

You. 

A gift–he knows–sent from heaven by the broken woman he forgave so very long ago. Her promise to him taken physical form.

It’s so much more than just a cup of hot cocoa.

It’s healing.

Masterlist

[fayemouse]

A mouse finds a dress.

A doll left it laying on their dresser after playing with its own doll.

They put it on, pulling the zipper up but knowing it won’t make it all the way to the top. Their shoulders too broad, their stomach too wide. The teeth purse and split.

Their arms fold across the neckline, holding it firm across their chest. It swishes past their feet, too tall for their frame. It kicks up powder and dust as they waltz with themselves, coating their fur in a fine layer of grayed pink.

They sneeze, a squeak and a huff that masks the opening of the door's latch. An involuntary flutter of their ears beats away the creaking rumble of the hinges. A witch, the doll’s witch, the mistress of the house they’re but squatters in and interlopers to rightfully peers down the bump of her nose at them.

Words with sound-forms too large for them to comprehend and a poorly-aimed slam just next to them freeze their muscles. Their claws grip into ersatz linen.

They’re off.

Scampering over jewelry boxes and necklaces, discarded receipts and forgotten notepaper, they run on all fours. Fear grips their heart and burns their lungs as they try to remember left or right, stop or go.

They hear a tear and know a hem has come loose. Their feet are no longer sure. Their legs flail into a metal tin with a bang.

Breath comes in gasps and wheezes, their skid-marks clear as day to them but too small for untrained eyes. Blanketed by shadows, a rest against the cool aluminum is a gift they savor.

It’s time. They must go a direction. The way doesn’t matter. They pull themselves forward with their free arm.

They never drop the dress. Not now, when they’re so close to absconding with it. Not now, as they share a moment with the doll’s doll. Not now, as they nearly reach being something more than just a skittering intruder to a better, more orderly, greater place.

The window: it’s still open a crack. The moment is right. They slip through.

The moonlight shows the damage. Slightly duller, no less elegant. Slightly torn, no less tight.

The disgust and fear of the witch -- protecting its dolls, protecting her home from an infestation -- still quickens their pulse. They’ll never try to return.

In their own nest, they mend and alter the dress. Cut and hem. Patch and seam. Let out and pinch in. It’s still the doll’s doll’s dress.

In their own nest, they follow motions they try so, so hard to understand. They practice dusting. They make themselves tea. They wiggle their whiskers and tut-tut a visiting ant. They treasure and hold so, so dear what they scavenged.

A mouse found a dress.

[ozarkdirtwitch]

House Protection Ointment

This is an all purpose protective for your home. Other ingredients can be added for for specific purposes.

Ingredients

1/4 cup of Vaseline

3 TBS of Tajin

1 tsp asafetida (aka hing) powder

1 tsp graveyard dirt or rust powder

Melt the Vaseline in a double boiler and then add the other ingredients. Place in a sealable, heatproof container and let cool.

To use

On the full moon, rub a small amount of the ointment on your exterior door and window frames and corners of your house. While you work, pray to your divine being of choice to strengthen and protect your home and all those who live within.

Works best if you renew it at least once a quarter on the full moon. You can also add a bit to witch bottles to increase their power.